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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24692977">If You Wish</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/kicksmalfoy/pseuds/kicksmalfoy'>kicksmalfoy</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Age Difference, Bondage, Character Embarrassedly Asks For First Time Kinky Sex, Clit Rubbing, Enthusiastic Consent, F/F, Gentle-But-Firm Domme, Hurt/Comfort Sex, Light Dom/sub, Multiple Orgasms, Tattoos, Teacher/Student Roleplay, Trans Character, Vulnerability, Whipping, kneeling for cunnilingus and then needing to support her legs as they buckle</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 08:41:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>18,370</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24692977</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/kicksmalfoy/pseuds/kicksmalfoy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Is that how you ended up here, Ms. Black?”</p><p>“No. I have known my desires for a long while."</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Narcissa Black Malfoy/Minerva McGonagall</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>The First Annual Femslash Kink Exchange 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. July, 1976</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/HogwartsToAlexandria/gifts">HogwartsToAlexandria</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I finished writing the story a lot later than I would want to and while I did start searching for a sensitivity reader, I just had a lot on my plate. I did some research on trans issues and started reading the Margaret Killjoy stories I had on my Kindle because I wanted to be reading fiction written by Trans People while writing this, but I know everyone has blindspots and misses things. If you see something harmful or misrepresenting the trans community, please message me so I can get rid of it immediately.</p><p>And for all the Trans People reading this, you have allies in the HP community and in the lesbian community. Don’t let the hateful bullshit some people spew make you believe otherwise. I hope I honored all of you in this story, and if it’s trash, I’ll happily delete it.</p>
    </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I haven’t watched the FB movies or read Cursed Child, and while I checked some of the information online about Minerva, I decided to only use some of it. So, in this story’s timeline, she was never married, she had been teaching at Hogwarts for 39 consecutive years by OoP and since I had her go from school pretty much straight to teaching at Hogwarts, I extrapolated her date of birth to be around 1937. Just use that date to calculate her age for the purpose of this story. Narcissa’s birth year is still 1955.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Narcissa was slightly hangover. She was twenty-one and in a near constant state of slight hangover. She didn’t see her. And she hadn’t expected to see her, because how can you ever anticipate running into your former professor in a lesbian bar, even one that was, at the time, hosting a very respectful fundraiser for homeless youth? But she turned her head, halfway through a laugh, and Minerva McGonagall was standing there in her severe hairstyle, that old-fashioned Witch’s hat. Narcissa nearly gagged, though she would later deny that she had had any such reaction.</p><p>Minerva was surprised to see her there and perhaps even embarrassed that she had crossed the channel and still managed to find herself confronted by a former student. Except Narcissa had no intention to engage her or to spread the word about her. She knew Professor McGonagall had never liked her much, so she kept her distance. Even Gryffindors should be allowed to drink in peace, and if McGonagall had just wandered in to make a donation or get advice for some Hogwarts student with family problems, then she should be able to do so without being interrogated by a former pupil.</p><p>It was Minerva who approached her, and really, she should be forgiven for being shocked a second time, because Nilou’s lips could make anyone forget their surroundings. She offered Minerva a drink, and since this had been one of those tedious nights when most of her friends were otherwise occupied, introduced Minerva to a few acquaintances.</p><p>It turned out that she had been somewhat right—Minerva did want to offer her help to at-risk youth, having dealt with so many helpless teenagers in her job—so Narcissa was able to postpone talking to the woman a bit longer. She hunted down their hostess, made introductions. The bar was subdued that night, with patrons gathered on the sofas, sipping wine that glowed amber under the soft light. Minerva and Zenobia sat on a corner to have a conversation, and Narcissa sat with them and listened with an air of interest, but without allowing her presence to feel intrusive in anyway.</p><p>She also invited Minerva back to her house. She does not remember why, but hopes it wasn’t without an opening. They walked along the canal, their heels echoing against the stone, and Narcissa pointed out each establishment—the bars, the clubs, the restaurants, all owned by members of their community. Their own little corner. There was always so much happening in those few blocks, but due to silencing wards, it felt like they were alone under the cover of the clouded night.</p><p>And yet, Narcissa found herself at ease. They were on a first name basis fast, at Minerva’s request, and though Minerva’s eyes still pinned her in place with their shrewdness, she found that the years had made her lose the nervousness she had always experienced inside Professor McGonagall’s classroom. Now, Minerva’s unwavering attention gave her a different sort of goose bumps.</p><p>As they walked along the canal, Minerva asked if she wasn’t interested in how she ended up there, in an Amsterdam bar for witches who desire other witches. Narcissa waved her hand dismissively, incurious. She could guess how Minerva had ended up in that particular establishment. It’s nearly always the same. You meet a witch, perhaps abroad, where you feel free and a bit unlike yourself. Or she’s a foreigner, temporary, unlike to feature in your future life. You feel a bit displaced and uninhibited and admits something to yourself you might otherwise not want to consider. Without you realizing, your world expands. You learn of places where you can be yourself, and it tempts you, and one day, you surrender. Whether Minerva’s motivation was to help or to date or just to take it all in, the journey was still likely to be similar.</p><p>“Is that how you ended up here, Ms. Black?”</p><p>“No. I have known my desires for a long while. You can credit Cressida for making my time at Hogwarts very instructive.”</p><p>“I thought Ms. Rowle had dated Mr. Malfoy while at Hogwarts.”</p><p>“I believe it’s fair to say Ms. Rowle dated Mr. Malfoy in the same way I currently date Mr. Malfoy.”</p><p>Sincerely but without physical intimacy. Having a secret himself, Lucius had drifted towards them as if by scent. She would love him by the time they were married, she knew.</p><p>She was already fond of him, protective of him. And he was protective of her. It would do nicely, their union. No one else would have understood them.</p><p>She didn’t betray Lucius’ secret. She told Minerva what she had his permission to disclose, with some discretion: they had arranged their betrothal so their parents wouldn’t do it for them; she was allowed to do whatever she wanted, love whoever she wanted, as long as there wasn’t a story about her on the Prophet or a rumor cursing through British tongues and landing on his father’s ears.</p><p>“And in exchange?” Minerva asked.</p><p>“In exchange, he gets to be himself.”</p><p>“There are other ways to do that.”</p><p>Narcissa made another dismissive gesture with her hand. She knew what Minerva was hinting at and she did not wish to think about Andromeda. In her opinion, there wasn’t much to think about. Andromeda had wanted one kind of life, one in which she could live on her terms, and Narcissa and Lucius were willing to live on everyone’s terms.<br/>She was not bothered by the life Andromeda chose or who she married, but she was still struggling to forgive how Andromeda had been willing to gamble away access to their family and leave her with the encumbrance of it. Given that Bellatrix was turning into the kind of person for whom cruelty was synonym to strength, Narcissa knew that if her grandparents and parents got sick or feeble, she was all they would have left.</p><p>She had already been witnessing the capacity of her extended family for neglect and callousness as Uncle Arcturus showed signs of deteriorating mental faculties—she was one of his few visitors and she was often asked by his companions and nurses to go through weeks-old paperwork or to settle salaries that Uncle Orion and Aunt Walburga had forgotten to pay and Aunt Lucretia couldn’t afford to (Aunt Meli at least had the excuse of being an eccentric recluse whose understanding of practical matters was non-existent). Her mother, especially, was unlikely to receive kindness from Orion and Walburga once they were legally in charge of the Estate and while Regulus was kind (Sirius would definitively be disinherited before Uncle Arcturus relinquished control of family matters), he had also been a feeble child and had grown into a young man prone to illness. Narcissa anticipated that Regulus himself would need to be cared for and that the family’s attention and resources would then converge onto his needs.</p><p>Lucius understood the burdens of familial piety, being an only child, and he understood that hers would likely encumber their future life in some way. Alienating either of their families was not something they wished for and they were willing to make larger sacrifices to ensure their relations did not become strained.</p><p>She led Minerva across the last curved bridge in the canal and to the townhouse she rented in the city. Under the lamplight, its façade shone the blue of Narcissa’s own irises. She had been walking back to Aunt Cassiopeia’s house one night during a visit and once she had seen it, she had been stunned still with covetousness. She had been restless until she had been able to reside in it.</p><p><br/>***</p><p>It turned out she was only partially right about Minerva. She was shocked when after two glasses of wine Minerva confessed “When I was born, my parents named me Matthew McGonagall”.</p><p>She didn’t hide her emotions as well as a daughter of the House of Black ought to. She saw as much in the hurt Minerva’s eyes, and to compensate, perhaps even overcompensating in a panic, she grabbed her former Professor’s hands and kissed them. It was, again, a gesture unbecoming of a woman of her birth, but she didn’t care.</p><p>She was not the accepting person some others in the community were, that much was obvious to her even then, when she was still self-involved and stubborn about her opinions. This was different, because she hadn’t meant to be surprised and couldn’t explain why she was. She was not ignorant of the countless possibilities of gender and sexuality anymore, and some of her lovers had chosen to live outside the constrictions of sex, gender, or sexuality binaries. Magic, after all, afforded anyone with the proper knowledge infinite possibilities.</p><p>“Tell me. If you wish.”</p><p>“I wasn’t always prodigious in transfiguration, but I was fascinated with it from the start. Wizards can undergo rituals to assume an animal form—I did—so why not live in the body you actually belong in? It was naïve, I suppose, to imagine it would be so simple.”</p><p>“Let me guess, the complications were not about what you could do, but about what British Society said you should.”</p><p>“I wasn’t raised in the kind of family that believes in that, so it was shocking to me that the Ministry’s attitude about performing certain kinds of magic was so conservative. There was nothing dark or harmful about it, and yet, it was easier to just do as I wished, take on the name that felt right, and not bother getting the Ministry to permit it or sanction it.”</p><p>Narcissa chuckled, but in a manner that could still be considered lady-like if anyone was taking note.</p><p>“How Gryffindor of you,” she whispered, her fingers dancing over Minerva’s hands, which she still hadn’t released.</p><p>She did not meet Minerva’s eyes. She was not sure if she was saying the right thing, which was unusual. She had been raised to speak tactfully, but Minerva was not a pureblood witch, that much she knew, and she could imagine she had been raised to be offended by different behaviors than the ones Narcissa had been raised never to accept. Narcissa knew none of Minerva’s pain points and that made her feel sheepish and scared of causing inadvertent hurt (as a Black, she only ever insulted people on purpose).</p><p>“I didn’t think cunning would be much use to me. I didn’t want to hide that I was in the wrong body. I wanted to live in the right one. And it wasn’t a rash decision. I actually spent many years thinking about it, researching how it would be possible via transfiguration. I worked hard at the discipline and became, well, extraordinary at it, before I decided to risk it. I wanted to make sure it would be permanent and that there would be no major side effects, so it took time.”</p><p>“Regardless of how long it took, it was a courageous decision to be true to yourself, to show to the outside world who you know you are. I will never be brave like you. Not brave enough to be myself and only myself. I must also be, well, a Black, and I’m sure in a couple of years I will be a Malfoy, and that means there must be a perception about who I am to society, to others. I’m sure that’s one of the things you hate about us snakes, so many faces, such an inability to just be, always weaving lies and manipulating perception.”</p><p>She stopped talking because she couldn’t bear how sorry for herself she sounded, how self-centered and unable to go even this long without talking about herself, but it was too late. Minerva had pitied her, drawn her closer on the settee. Narcissa moved away.</p><p>“I don’t exactly tell the world, do I?”</p><p>“Should you have to?”</p><p>“No. Yes. It shouldn’t matter to anyone else. But sometimes I think that if it was more well-known, the children at Hogwarts who are agonizing over some of the same things we did would know they have an ally in me. As it is, I worry only my Lions trust me. Slytherins most certainly don’t and they don’t look to Dumbledore as an ally either. I hate to think of you and Ms. Rowle figuring things out all on your own. I would have liked to have been there for you.”</p><p>“Minerva,” Narcissa sighed. “I have always looked up to you. I have always admired you and respected you. You are a powerful witch, so in control and competent and that made you everything I wanted to be. Everything I am still working to become. You are the witch I’ve always looked up to, even if I wasn’t supposed to because of your birth station and politics. We Snakes don’t come to you because we pride ourselves in being able to set the course of our lives in our own terms, despite what most outsiders perceive as an unwillingness to stray. I needed to figure things out for myself. Knowing wouldn’t have made a difference. And even without knowing you were queer, you were still a beacon.”</p><p>“Thank you, Narcissa, for saying that. However, I feel that I myself still have some faces to shed.”</p><p>“You can shed them with me. If you wish. I won’t tell anyone.”</p><p>Minerva kissed her then, a hand cradling the back of her neck. She felt as if she had been spelled warm. Her arms enveloped the older woman and she shifted closer so she could feel Minerva’s body against hers. She traced the swell of Minerva’s breasts with her fingertips, palmed her expanding ribs, bit her lips playfully.</p><p>There was a strangeness in discovering Minerva’s very human body after so many years of seeing her as almighty, in smelling the arousal sprouting from both of them, in feeling the desire in the way Minerva kissed her. But it was a heady strangeness, like being chosen. She had never been a favored student, so being lavished with interest by someone around whom she had focused her esteem and perhaps even her affections was intoxicating.</p><p>“Perhaps we shouldn’t do this,” Minerva whispered, pulling away.</p><p>Narcissa stood, quick to put some distance between them, but unsure of what to do after that. She had never been rejected before. Especially not after a kiss. She was, after all, beautiful and used to her notice being desired and sought.</p><p>“May I … May I offer you some water? Perhaps more wine?”</p><p>She walked over to the kitchen, which was just off the small sitting parlor on the ground floor. Had Minerva felt it was rude of her to receive her so close to the entrance? She knew it was not ideal in terms of manners, but it had felt too forward to invite her former professor upstairs without first asserting that Minerva’s intentions. Or maybe she shouldn’t have touched her breasts. Maybe it was all much too fast.</p><p>“Narcissa?”</p><p>She turned to find Minerva standing at the doorway and realized she had removed the water and wine bottles from the chilled cupboard, but had stood there, rattled inside her thoughts, instead of serving drinks.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” she said and summoned crystal tumblers onto the marble counter. “I do not know what I did, but I’m sorry.”</p><p>She looked at the bottles and realized she didn’t know what to do next. Minerva extracted them from her grasp and settled them on the counter.</p><p>“You’ve done nothing wrong. You’re not in trouble.”</p><p>Minerva smirked and some—but not enough—of Narcissa’s apprehension eased.</p><p>“I don’t want you to feel like you must … like you will offend me if you’re not interested,” Minerva said.</p><p>“Why would I think that?”</p><p>Minerva glared at her.</p><p>“Narcissa.”</p><p>The way she said her name was cutting and Narcissa winced, but understood, finally. She blushed.</p><p>Minerva still had the power to make her feel incompetent, inadequate, and that wasn’t a feeling she had come to associate with the pursuit of a lover.</p><p>“Oh. Am I … am I the first person you have told?”</p><p>“No, of course not. Dumbledore knows, obviously. He helped me figure out which books to read. My family knows and I have told most lovers, because I feel intimacy demands truth. The most recent one mentioned she found shelter with Heksen Huis while she had been transitioning. That was a few months ago, actually, but things have been hectic in our country, as you know, so it took me a while to decide to make my way here.”</p><p>“To look for her?”</p><p>“No, I wasn’t looking for her. I was just looking.”</p><p>“And you found me. Thrilling.”</p><p>“I think so. It is a good surprise. I can’t believe that in all the years of teaching you, I didn’t see it. I suppose I am as guilty of making assumptions as anyone else. Narcissa, I feel like I didn’t really know you until now and I would like to change that. I would like to know you.”</p><p>“Oh,” Narcissa said and served herself some white wine.</p><p>“Unless you don’t want that.”</p><p>“No, we should absolutely be friends. Friends are wonderful.”</p><p>Narcissa’s face burned like it had been placed next to a boiling cauldron. She had been an object of curiosity before, but never of another witch who loved witches, and she already loathed everything about it. She didn’t want Minerva to uncover the queerness under prim little Miss Black, like her true character was an oddity for past acquaintances to marvel at.</p><p>Narcissa gulped her drink with none of the grace she usually made sure to project and looked around for something to do.</p><p>“May I offer you some supper?”</p><p>“You should feel free to correct me if I have misunderstood your intentions, Narcissa.”</p><p>“Pureblood women do not correct their betters.”</p><p>And for those who might dare, there was a plethora of hexes to correct such behavior. Andromeda was probably familiar with quite a few.</p><p>Minerva snorted and Narcissa guessed she knew that the instruction was actually never to correct your elders, and that Narcissa had amended it. It was, nevertheless, true. Minerva was extraordinary and she was not. Clever enough, maybe, but she had been raised to adorn a room and closing the gap between that education and one that might elevate her mind to being valuable was not a brief or easy ordeal.</p><p>“You have nothing to fear from me. Correct me away; I won’t take offense.”</p><p>“I would like to … I would like us to know each other anew, as adult witches.”</p><p>Narcissa shook in frustration. What had seized her? She was usually perfectly capable of expressing herself with clarity and precision.</p><p>“That seems wise,” Minerva answered lightly. She seemed to be rather enjoying herself. Narcissa drank the rest of the wine and stared at the empty glass.</p><p>“I would like us to know each other as more than friends. If you wish. I will not take offense if you don’t. It would be perfectly understandable—</p><p>Her boldness restored, Minerva pressed an earnest kiss to her mouth, silencing her spiraling into further humiliation, and Narcissa eagerly parted her lips, inviting Minerva to go further, but Minerva set her own pace, intent on scrupulously savoring her, the motions of her lips as precise and deliberate as the movements of her wand in class.</p><p>Narcissa was used to being the aggressor in most sexual situations, and Minerva’s restraint and control was disarming. Narcissa’s fingers twitched at her sides, eager to explore, but unsure of how, and her body turned soft inside Minerva’s grasp, like an open offer. But Minerva’s fingers merely grazed her sides, causing tiny tremors that went ignored and when she pulled away her eyes were wide, as if she still couldn’t quite parse the strangeness of the two of them in this position, and Narcissa felt shy again.</p><p><br/>***</p><p>They ate. Narcissa had, after all, offered Minerva a meal; she wanted to act appropriately in some way and offering Minerva food was the one manner her mind seemed capable to try and diffuse the sexual tension stretching between them like a stagnant spell.</p><p>She didn’t have a house-elf in Amsterdam, but Aunt Cassiopeia had possessed an army of human servants, and small feasts were sent over to Narcissa thrice a day. It was one of the reasons why she had been at the fundraiser. The organization behind it ran a shelter for displaced youth, those thrown out of their homes for diverse reasons, though in a lot of cases sexuality or a refusal to marry a partner chosen by one’s parents was the cause. Narcissa knew it could so easily have been her or Lucius. She was fortunate not to have been found out, not to have been “corrected”, not to have been thrown out. So she volunteered her time, helped with whatever money she had in her pocket-money vault, sent meals over to the shelter.</p><p>“Tell me how you came to be in Amsterdam,” Minerva asked over her eggplant stew, then added, “If you wish.”</p><p>“My Great-Aunt Cassiopeia lives not very far from here. She is an unmarried woman of a certain age, an eccentric in our family’s opinion, and because she has never had children of her own, she has always doted on my father and funnily enough, my mother.”</p><p>“Why funnily enough?”</p><p>“My mother has always been perceived as something of an oddity in the family.”</p><p>“May I ask why?”</p><p>Narcissa sought an easy, straightforward way to explain the issue, but there wasn’t one. The dynamics of her family depended on subtleties that she did not think an outsider could grasp without some context. So she opted to reveal as much as she was comfortable doing.</p><p>“Are your parents Purebloods?”</p><p>“My mother is. My father is a muggle, actually.”</p><p>“Ah,” Narcissa said simply. She wasn’t entirely sure how to react to the revelation. It certainly went against everything Narcissa had been raised to care about, and yet she kept her practiced stoicism, determined not to give Minerva reason to be insulted. “Imagine if your father’s parents were very pleased with your mother as a prospective match for your father, but expected her to convert to their religion and she not only refused, but wanted to make sure to raise her children in a completely different one.”</p><p>Narcissa did not understand the appeal of religion, but through her readings about muggle history in its intertwining with magical history, she had grasped that religion was of the utmost importance to a lot of muggles. Her guess must have been somewhat right; though Minerva’s only acknowledgement was a nod, there was a glint of recognition in her eyes.</p><p>“My mother’s challenges were something of that nature. There was nothing about her my grandparents could truly find objectionable. However, her upbringing made her be seen as a bit of an outsider to my father’s very English family and they had difficulty embracing her.”</p><p>In fact, Narcissa had vivid memories of her grandparents openly mistreating her mother. She remembered feeling anxious every time her father was absent, because that usually led to covert visits from her grandparents and Aunt Walburga, and her mother being spelled silent or screamed at or even in one occasion Imperioused by her grandfather and played with like a doll. But that was way too private a confession to make to anyone.</p><p>“I thought your mother was a Rosier.”</p><p>“She is. My grandmother Alix was born in Russia, but she was raised in Geneva where she met my grandfather Thomond, though he was born in Belgium. They married and planned to settle right there in Geneva, but they felt compelled to leave during all the unrest in the continent between 1930 and 1945. I am sure I don’t have to elaborate.”</p><p>“No, you don’t.”</p><p>“A branch of the family has owned an Isle in Wales for some centuries now, so my grandparents lived there for some time. My mother is Welsh by birth, but her upbringing reflected more of my grandmother’s customs than those of Britain. Nono has always been unconventional for a Pureblood man. My grandmother’s culture is one of matriarchy and Nono completely embraced it, for one, and he has very few interests outside of Alchemy. I suppose his cousins and brothers see him as useful in matters of sorcery and fortune, but also eccentric.</p><p>“My mother was perhaps an odd choice to marry my father. I think my father is and has always been quite besotted with her. However, most of the family only welcomed her for her wealth and her good name.</p><p>“Aunt Cassiopeia was kind to her. She and Aunt Dorea cared about my mother, and helped her navigate the complicated family dynamics and outmaneuver my grandfather Pollux when it was needed. And when Aunt Cassiopeia moved here many years ago, to have some privacy, my mother always brought one of us with her for visits. After my sisters went to Hogwarts, it was mostly me, and I suppose I was doted on.”</p><p>“You must have been very pampered having the entire family to yourself for three years.”</p><p>“I was an agreeable child and I was liked,” Narcissa answered with a shrug, but she couldn’t deny that not having to share the adults’ attention with her sisters had been fantastic. She had been precocious in that way Pureblood children often were—well-read, extraordinary at eavesdropping, and prone to revealing inappropriate remarks the adults had made to the most lenient and eccentric of her assorted relatives. Her aunts and uncles had loved indulging her lack of filter. Aunt Cassipoeia and Uncle Artucrus had always been especially delighted with her capacity for providing information. “Aunt Cassiopeia gave Cressida and me a safe place to stay when we wanted to be together outside of Hogwarts, and later when Cressida left, she helped me meet new people.”</p><p>“So she knows?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“And she is … ?”</p><p>“Yes. Very openly so, I am allowed to say.”</p><p>“So you moved here to be closer to her.”</p><p>“I stay here during the Summers to enjoy her company and visit friends. I live the rest of the year at school.”</p><p>“Finishing school?”</p><p>“What is Finishing School?”</p><p>“It’s a school that young ladies are sent to so they can learn social graces before entering society.”</p><p>“So it’s a manners school for those have recently moved up in the world.”</p><p>“Narcissa!”</p><p>“Is it not?”</p><p>“Not always, no.”</p><p>“Well, that is nonsensical. If a mother cannot provide that sort of education, surely there is a matron in family, even a distantly related one, who can. Why would you want the whole world to know you came of age lacking manners?”</p><p>“It’s a cultural difference, I suppose.”</p><p>“Did you go to finishing school?”</p><p>Minerva laughs.</p><p>“No. My family was hardly wealthy and we lived in a small village. There was no Society for me to gain entry to. But I would like to hear about your studies.”</p><p>“And I would like to hear about your life.”</p><p>“I have talked enough about my life.”</p><p>“I have talked about my life and my family.”</p><p>“My family is normal. My parents loved each other and they defied my mother’s family to be together, but after that I suppose they lived a sort of boring, parochial life. My father was a Minister—</p><p>“As in the Minister of Magic?”</p><p>“As in with the Church. He was a religious leader.”</p><p>“Was he accepting of magic and sorcery?”</p><p>“He was accepting of most things. He was a generous person, and there was little he wouldn’t do for us. We were close. I was close to both of my parents, actually. I was fortunate. I felt like I could talk to both of them. My father had a harder time understanding my transition than my mother, but he was supportive and our relationship didn’t really change very much, which was a relief. He died many years ago, and though my mother outlived him by many years, she has passed away as well. I have brothers, but I haven’t been close to them in quite a while.”</p><p>Narcissa knew what that was like, and she knew it was hard to talk about, so she didn’t intrude.</p><p>“Most of my life has been dedicated to teaching and learning and writing articles. Being a scholar leaves little time for other things, but I try helping those who need help when I can. So, what advanced educational opportunities are you pursuing?”</p><p>“My grandparents are patrons of the Artic Center for High Magic in Russia. My grandmother’s family has had relations with the Center for many centuries, actually, so I was invited to conduct some studies of my choosing there. I can attend lectures if they are available or ask a Fellow to be a mentor. Mostly I read and consult the available researchers when I have questions.”</p><p>“So like a College?”</p><p>“Aren’t Colleges a part of muggle government? The College of the Military, the College of Health …”</p><p>“Never mind. So it’s a secret research organization for the very wealthy?”</p><p>Narcissa tensed at the question, but Minerva’s eyes were animated and she leaned towards Narcissa across the table, clearly just curious, so Narcissa relaxed.</p><p>“It is not secret, though I suppose, with the goal being personal enrichment, its appeal might be limited to those who don’t need to learn a profession. However, there are no encumbrances. It used to be that people put all of their resources into a collective institution and shared them. Later, they embraced giving outsiders access to those materials as research fellows, and now those fellows, who I believe do not need connections or wealth to attain their position, pay it back to the institution through mentoring and sometimes lecturing.”</p><p>“Yes, in the muggle world, we call that a College or a University.”</p><p>“Oh. I was sure a college was a court thing.”</p><p>“Perhaps. Words tend to be used for different things, and sometimes the previous meanings get lost. In the muggle world, though, there are means for most people to apply for a position to a University. Well, at least today. In the past, things were a bit like this.”</p><p>“Did you read at University?”</p><p>“I was fortunate to have the opportunity to be Dumbledore’s protégé. I weighted the different opportunities at my disposal and chose the best one.”</p><p>Minerva shrugged, but Narcissa wasn’t so self-centered at to not notice Minerva had sidestepped confessing something. Narcissa wouldn’t pressure her to disclose whatever it was, but she would save the information in her mind just in case.</p><p>“I am glad you have this opportunity and I like seeing you this enthusiastic about it. You always seemed very withdrawn at Hogwarts.”</p><p>“I was very bored in your classes,” Narcissa admitted and Minerva’s eyes sparked.</p><p>“Well, thank you.”</p><p>“You were an excellent teacher. However, I had read all the material ahead and I remembered every single world of it. I was thrilled to be able to finally put it to practice, but then it turned out I didn’t have a talent for it. Once I realized my intelligence would not be enough, that my wandwork would always just be passable, I suppose I lost interest in the subject.”</p><p>“I am sorry to hear that. I wish you had come to me and asked for help with it.”</p><p>“It was hopeless. I was never much good with a wand.”</p><p>“I am sure—</p><p>Narcissa placed a hand over Minerva’s, shook her head.</p><p>“It used to upset me when I was a girl, but that is in the past. I don’t have to do much of anything for myself, so my use for wandwork was always going to be limited, and I am allowed to explore other forms of sorcery now. I am more suited for ritual magic and analytical research. I am still clever and capable, and I don’t much mind that I would be useless in a duel. You don’t have to try and resolve the issue, because there is no issue. I am happy.”</p><p>“I am happy to hear that.”</p><p>“Would you accept another drink?”</p><p>Narcissa led Minerva to the second floor. There was a grander sitting room facing the canal and Narcissa figured the excuse of showing Minerva the view was as good as any to move to the parlor closer to a bedroom. She served them both Hungarian dessert wine, an amber shot of sugar that possibly went straight to their heads because Minerva ended up with her back pressed against the windows instead of gazing out of them.</p><p>Narcissa really couldn’t recall how and she was somewhat sober, shockingly. She had even made sure to switch to water during supper. She had kissed Minerva first this time, but then Minerva had massaged her breasts over her dress, and it was fuzzy after that, really.</p><p>“May I?” she asked, gathering Minerva’s skirt in her fist. She didn’t even know what she intended to do, and when Minerva gave permission, she surprised herself by kneeling and banishing the older woman’s undergarments. Narcissa kissed her way up Minerva’s thigh, then kissed the outline of her lips. Minerva shivered, and seemed to hesitate, but after a few seconds she spread her legs.</p><p>“Should I go on?”</p><p>“Yes, of course,” Minerva answered with that tone she used on students when they asked dumb questions.</p><p>It made Narcissa laugh, and then to make sure Minerva knew she was not laughing at her, she kissed her navel, spread her vulva open with her fingers and sought her clitoris with her tongue. She lapped at it, but it seemed to be a little less sensitive than she was used to, so she increased the pressure, closed her lips around it, and Minerva blessedly moaned. Narcissa could feel her own arousal between her legs and it made her enhance her efforts by slipping two of her fingers inside Minerva.</p><p>Minerva’s legs kept clasping shut, the muscles in her thighs contracting against Narcissa’s ears and inexplicably causing Narcissa to get some spastic tremors of her own. It became hard to breathe; her arousal seemed to exhaust her lungs, but she could feel how close Minerva was, she could sense it in her shaking, despite her stoic silence, so Narcissa sped up her thrusts and put more pressure on Minerva’s nub. Her former professor’s knees faltered, then she collapsed completely.</p><p>Narcissa might have never been a natural with a wand, but she was proficient without one—a result of Purebloods parents who wanted to ensure she had an edge over “those mudblooded interlopers” and an ingrained need to keep secrets. She caught Minerva without much thought, and eased her onto the hardwood boards without interrupting her caresses, though as Minerva started squirming in something that seemed like discomfort, she moved away, kissing less sensitive patches of exposed skin and crawling over Minerva so they could be face-to-face.</p><p>“Would you grade my work an Outstanding?” she asked and although Minerva rolled her eyes, Narcissa could see she was amused.</p><p>Minerva placed a kiss on the hollow of her throat in response and now it was Narcissa’s turn to lose control over her steadiness. Minerva caught her by the hips and eased her over her prone body, then rolled them both on their sides.</p><p>Backlit by the golden streetlamp light, Minerva seemed to be absorbing brightness. Her hair was disheveled and her eyes shone bright. The high-necked collar of her dress had come undone and Narcissa could see a patch of flushed skin. Narcissa didn’t think she would have ever been able to imagine this side of Minerva and it felt special to witness it.<br/>Using magic, she pulled the pins out of Minerva’s hair and ran her hands through it. It was much shorter than Narcissa would have guessed—shoulder-length—and if the dark brown had already been speckled with gray then, Minerva had used Coloravia to keep it hidden. With her hair loose, she looked younger and sexier, and Narcissa felt like ravishing her again.</p><p>“I think I need you to demonstrate how you like to be touched again, just so I can be certain I’m doing my best work,” she said, wriggling her fingers near Minerva’s chest.</p><p>Minerva gave her a lazy smile and took her hand. She had a soft but firm grip, a way to make Narcissa want to be held by her.</p><p>Minerva guided Narcissa’s fingers to the exposed curve of her breasts.</p><p>“Here, like this.”</p>
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<a name="section0002"><h2>2. July, 1978</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> “So this is what you and Mr. Malfoy were doing in Berlin?”</p><p>Minerva’s fingers caressed the inked word on her skin. It was invisible unless summoned, a necessary discretion. Her parents were likely to disown her for it. They had not been tolerant of deviations after Andromeda. She had been cautious since, but Lucius and she had been drunk and adventurous that night.</p><p>Lucius’ tattoo was a massive dragon on his back. She had two. A couple of verses by Sappho inked in their original Greek under her right breast and the word beloved, written shakily by Lucius on her ankle. Minerva brushed it with tenderness.</p><p>“What’s the story of this one?”</p><p>“There was a fight with Cressida that night.”</p><p>There would be many fights with Cressida later as well. First love was a terrible type of love.</p><p>“About?”</p><p>“It seemed hopeless to me, to risk so much when she wasn’t willing. I wasn’t asking her to marry me. I wasn’t even asking her to acknowledge me publicly. She’s a Rowle, for Morgana’s sake. She knows as well as I do that a woman of her class pursuing a career in Quidditch is just as bad as a woman of her class pursuing another woman romantically, and yet she’s willing to risk everything to play. Everything.”</p><p>“But she was not willing to risk everything for you.”</p><p>“She was leaving for Japan that summer. And I was supposed to be pleased to be informed she wouldn’t mind if I wanted to see other people. I was not,” she chocked, her throat closing at the memories, even now. “And I suppose I wondered if that was all I would ever know of love—fleeting and portioned and hidden and treated like a deep shame. I wondered if there would ever be full, open love for me and I didn’t think the odds were in my favor.”  </p><p>But Lucius had always been a good friend and though paying the tattooist to give him an impromptu lesson had been a silly idea, it was one born out of his caring, and she had appreciated what he had been trying to tell her. She appreciated that she had him and that their love felt real, though not quite whole.</p><p>It wasn’t just that their marriage was a bit unusual or that she didn’t feel sexually attracted to him. She had once believed their love for each other would evolve. She had known Lucius didn’t experience sexual attraction, but it hadn’t been clear and it still wasn’t clear whether or not he experienced romantic attraction at all or just not for her. He was still sweet to her, obliging, indulging. And she loved that, but somehow her love had also never risen above that of a friend. She had hoped to bridge their disconnect, at least enough that it felt like the only thing missing between them was sexual desire, but that had never happened. She did feel beloved by him, but it was not enough.</p><p>“I was sixteen. I was a bit dramatic,” she said, dismissively, and decided to move the conversation along. “If I told you what Ms. Rowle and I were really doing in Berlin before Mr. Malfoy showed up, you would be very cross.”</p><p>Minerva frowned and pursed her lips against a smirk, but she could not hide the glint in her eyes. They had undressed after returning from an art show, heated more by the hours of gazing at naked women pleasurably twisted together than by the short walk home in a stifling summer evening. Minerva had sat against the bed’s velvet headboard and Narcissa had sprawled herself over the silk sheets, and they had sighed, contented, as the bedroom’s cooling spell sank into their bodies, the setting sun bathing Minerva and making her pale eyes glow.</p><p>Narcissa felt that telltale throb between her legs.</p><p>“I’m afraid I have to demand you tell me, Ms. Black.”</p><p>“It was very naughty.”</p><p>Narcissa shifted her feet on Minerva’s lap, let them brush the older woman’s abdomen.</p><p>“Yes, I assumed as much by the photographs in Witch Weekly.”</p><p>“I didn’t take you for a Witch Weekly reader, Professor.”</p><p>“Well, I did have to confiscate quite a few editions of it in September. Not quite as popular as the one with the images of Mr. Malfoy and Ms. Rowle in Italy, but popular nevertheless.”</p><p>Narcissa laughed. Lucius had known exactly what he had been doing when he let himself get photographed removing the bikini of his presumed betrothed and kissing her exposed breasts, and so had Cressida. The images had been as scandalous and widely shared as both had hoped, making both set of parents furious, allowing Lucius to assert his sexual prowess publicly, and “tainting” Cressida so she would be free from any expectation of marrying after graduation and opening the possibility of a career. Compared to that, the images of Lucius and Narcissa leaving various Wizarding bars holding hands and embracing would hardly have been appealing, except for its gossip value.</p><p>“It’s nice to know I’m not as much of an object of curiosity as either my husband or my former lover,” she joked.</p><p>“Teenagers are foolish, my dear.”</p><p>“I suppose I know as much about that as anyone.”</p><p>Minerva raised an eyebrow, an enquiry poised in her eyes. Years ago, that look had made Narcissa want to shrivel. Now it made her unfurl.</p><p>“There were a few instances of sexual activity in public, I suppose. But only in dark places. And private parties. Hardly counts.”</p><p>“Oh, it counts, Ms. Black. What else? I demand a full account.”</p><p>Narcissa giggled.</p><p>“Well, salvia cigarettes were very popular with our group, for good reason, and Cressida was exceedingly skilled in the acquisition of Areca potions. What else? Oh, mushrooms. And we did have sex on an airborne broom.”</p><p>“Ms. Black! Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?”</p><p>“It was not <em>my</em> idea. Truly.”</p><p>“That is a very substantial list of transgressions.”</p><p>“Are you going to discipline me, Professor?”</p><p>Narcissa sat up and held Minerva’s eyes. Minerva’s dark pupils had nearly overtaken her irises and the sight aroused Narcissa. Minerva cupped her cheek, brought her closer.</p><p>“I’m afraid I might.”</p><p>“You should. I was imprudent, rash. I need to be taught self-restraint.”</p><p>Minerva moved her lips to Narcissa’s, but instead of kissing her, she stopped, hovering, letting Narcissa feel her the heat coming off her, remember the taste of her lips—which she was being denied—, and whine.</p><p>“Yes, you do need to learn self-control.”</p><p>Minerva pulled away, a glint in her eyes that told Narcissa she knew just how much Narcissa yearned for her. She kissed Narcissa’s forehead, but the chasteness of that was at odds with how Minerva’s hands settled on Narcissa’s torso, her thumbs tracing the contours of Narcissa’s breasts. Narcissa murmured the words that revealed the tattoo there and it surfaced, tickling the skin, heightening Minerva’s touch. It was enough to make Narcissa’s breath shallow.</p><p>“So excitable. No wonder you ended up having sex in public places.”</p><p>“Well, that and we wanted to be seen. Probably. Who knows what my brain is like on potions?”</p><p>“You deserve a spanking.”</p><p>Minerva shook her head then, making it evident she had spoken without thinking, but her eyes glimmered with arousal and her hands tightened against Narcissa’s ribs.</p><p>“Yes, please! I mean, if you think it’s appropriate, Professor McGonagall.”</p><p>“Lie over my lap. Face down.”</p><p>Now it was Minerva’s breathing that was erratic and Narcissa felt smug that she could have led the tightly controlled Minerva to such a state just with words.</p><p>“And wipe that look off your face,” Minerva hissed, not the least bit convincing about her seriousness.</p><p>“You can spank it out of me,” Narcissa responded and positioned herself as ordered, eagerly presenting her buttocks for punishment.</p><p>However, Minerva became strangely hesitant. She rubbed Narcissa’s ass for longer than necessary, given that Narcissa was not only at ease, but enthusiastic. She smacked Narcissa twice, but there was no real sting to it, and Narcissa turned her head around to look at her. Minerva wouldn’t meet her gaze.</p><p>“I don’t want to hurt you too badly,” she said, sounding shy and very much not herself.</p><p>“You can be forceful. Truly, Minerva. I enjoy the pain.”</p><p>The following smack made Narcissa gasp and moan.</p><p>“Go on,” she said, making sure Minerva didn’t get the wrong idea.</p><p>Two more smacks, the pain piercing and quick to spread over her bum. She arched and gasped, and Minerva stopped. Narcissa reached behind herself and found Minerva’s hand where it rested over the small of her back.</p><p>“It feels good,” she said and met Minerva’s eyes.</p><p>“I know,” she said, but there was still a hesitancy there.</p><p>“Are you okay? Is something the matter?”</p><p>“I’m fine. You look so small in this position. Defenseless.”</p><p>Narcissa scooted off Minerva’s lap and sat next to her in bed, leaning against the headboard so their shoulders touched. She took one of Minerva’s hands in hers and massaged it, hoping to soothe her. The tingly sensation on her ass had already started to disappear.</p><p>“I’m a Slytherin, remember? I only look defenseless when that is my intention.” She kissed Minerva’s knuckles sweetly. “I am with you. I am always safe with you.”</p><p>“I have never done this before.”</p><p>“I can tell.”</p><p>“I don’t know how I would know if I was hurting you too much, if I was going too far.”</p><p>“You would have known because I would have told you to stop.”</p><p>“What if you were crying? Or writhing with pain? I couldn’t bear it, even if I knew it was blended with pleasure.”</p><p>Narcissa rested her head against Minerva’s shoulder, kissed the sun freckles there. She felt Minerva’s own lips grazing the back of her head, her fingers caressing the inside of Narcissa’s thighs.</p><p>“I don’t want you to bear it. I never want you to bear things. Bearing is what we do out there. In here, I want you to feel safe to be honest. I am sorry. I should have told you … something. I never … I never had this conversation with Cressida, which was probably unwise, but I was only fifteen when she first asked me if I would like to obey her and it never occurred to me that there was anything for me to say about the subject besides whether or not I wanted to be in that position. I always let her explain to me what would take place and how.”</p><p>“I don’t that to be our relationship. Not in bed and not in any other way.”</p><p>“I know. I know you are not Cressida. However, I still feel an inclination to follow your lead in things, because I trust you. Because I respect you. And when that doesn’t feel fair or right, you might need to stop me. I might not realize I’m burdening you.”</p><p>“It’s not a burden, Cissa. I want to do it, the idea is certainly appealing …” Minerva said and blushed so readily that Narcissa bit her lips not to call her adorable. “But I must do it right. We have been playful before and I enjoy it, but this is different. If I intend to do anything that can hurt you, I must be knowledgeable about it.”</p><p>“I understand that. I should have probably thought about that. You are …”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Very methodical.” Minerva’s eyebrows raised almost menacingly at the suggestion. “Almost too meticulous and perhaps a tad too dependent on research.”</p><p>“It is important to me that I always know what I am doing! I want to know what I’m doing and that I cannot hurt you.”</p><p>Narcissa tried to contain the silent laughter raking through her. She didn’t do a very good job of it and Minerva threw her a glare.</p><p> “Are you certain you weren’t meant to be a Ravenclaw?”</p><p>“The hat considered it.”</p><p>“Aha!”</p><p>“It is not a secret. The hat considered both Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, but I think it decided that as I already had an abundance of intelligence and wit and wisdom, I would benefit more from a Gryffindor experience. Yes, in Ravenclaw, I might have embraced my individuality, but I think the Hat was right that I needed to cultivate my boldness even more. Where did the hat try to put you?”</p><p>Narcissa lifted her gaze and widened her eyes, donning her best impression of innocence.</p><p>“Whatever do you mean?”</p><p>“I remember you were a hat staller.”</p><p>“I have a great too many qualities. The Hat thought every House would be so fortunate to have me, and it had a hard time deciding which one to bless with me.”</p><p>“Was it Gryffindor?”</p><p>“No!” Narcissa rushed to say. She sighed. “It was Hufflepuff. Do not tell anyone!”</p><p> “It is not a bad thing. Hufflepuffs are kind and loyal.”</p><p>Narcissa had never seen Minerva smile quite so widely, and she regretted a bit giving her such ammunition. Only Lucius knew about it, and only because the Hat had also tried to put him in Hufflepuff. The moment he had shared this secret with her, Narcissa had known she would marry him. They made fun of Hufflepuffs in school, but as Narcissa saw it, the perfect spouse had to have some Hufflepuff traits.</p><p>“Yes, and I reminded the Hat that those qualities would do very little for me as a Black and someone who already had an inkling she was different. And the Hat agreed that I was going to need cunning and ambition to make the best of my circumstances more so than I could use diligence and patience and Morgana help me, modesty.”</p><p>“Oh, yes, all that Hufflepuff modesty would have ruined you,” Minerva says sarcastically.</p><p>“Would a Hufflepuff have tried to seduce the formidable Minerva McGonagall? I don’t think so. That took a bit of arrogance, I will have you know. It took knowing I’m quite irresistible.”</p><p>“You are<em> impossible</em>.”</p><p>“Yes, but also irresistible,” she insisted, and when Minerva silenced her with a kiss, she blabbered on “See? You cannot resist me.”</p><p>“I will add modesty to the list of things I must impress upon you, Ms. Black.”</p><p>Narcissa’s laugh ricocheted off the walls and filled the room.</p><p>“Good luck.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. August, 1978</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It hadn’t been easy to buy the Amsterdam house. The owners had been quite fond of it, since it had been in their family for generations, but it was Narcissa’s understanding that the current head of the family was a gambler, which was why such a majestic home in one of the most prosperous (if Queer) districts in magical Amsterdam was being rented. So she had offered increasingly preposterous sums until they were willing to sell.</p><p>She had needed to contact her Rosier grandfather and ask him to procure it for her, of course. She hadn’t wanted any of her properties folded into the Malfoy estate. She trusted Lucius, but not his parents. And the bureacacy of having a Rosier trust secretly set up for her in a small and discerning Wizarding Bank in Geneva had taken longer than she would have liked.</p><p>The first thing she had done once the deed had been signed over was redecorate the entire house.</p><p>She had chosen the bedroom’s wallpaper carefully. She didn’t want the room to feel overdone to distraction, she didn’t want opulence, but she did want it to feel hers since nowhere else ever would. The flowers blooming and swooning against the creamy background was perhaps a tad overstimulating, but it had been love at first sight and now that she was standing facing the wall, she found it soothing. The charmed motions left her almost in a trance.</p><p>“Were daffodils are a favorite of your mother’s?” Minerva asked conversationally, as if Narcissa wasn’t nude and waiting to be spanked.</p><p>“No. I was named for my mother’s sister, who died while my mother was pregnant with me. And Aunt Narcissa was named after Nono’s mother.”</p><p>“I’m sorry to hear that, my flower. I didn’t mean to bring up something painful.”</p><p>“It is fine. I know most people are curious about my name, since the Black family follows a famous naming convention. My mother grieved her for a long time, and so did my grandparents, but I didn’t know her, so it’s impossible to feel like I lost her. Granny and Nono do love me the most, so there is that.”</p><p>“Narcissa!”</p><p>“They really do. I am their favorite.”</p><p>“It’s a good thing I was already going to discipline you.”</p><p>“Yes, and teach me modesty,” Narcissa added, laughing.</p><p>“Do you have a safe word?”</p><p>Narcissa smirked because her safe word used to be “Gryffindor” ("Perfect way to end a good time," Cressida used to say. Minerva would probably not appreciate the comment, though).</p><p>“Lemon drops,” she chose instead, because who had never wanted to hex Dumbledore at an ill-timed offer of the sweet? Definitively a mood killer.</p><p>Minerva circled her and stood in front of her. Narcissa had to restrain herself not to reach out and touch her. Suddenly there was a sting on her bottom and Narcissa shrieked.</p><p>“What was that?”</p><p>“I thought you wanted to be spanked.”</p><p>“You are standing in front of me.”</p><p>“Alas, I’m a witch and that isn’t an issue.”</p><p>Minerva smiled, looking smug, and Narcissa couldn’t help but notice she was gloriously attractive when she was haughty.</p><p>“A bit unsettling at first, nevertheless.”</p><p>“Do you want to try something else?”</p><p>“No, I’m actually quite curious. Is that a spell?”</p><p>“Yes. I tested it on myself, so I know what you will feel. And this way I can look into your eyes and know that you are all right.”</p><p>Narcissa gasped when a second sting materialized on her bum.</p><p>“Is this okay? Is it what you imagined?” Minerva asked.</p><p>Narcissa chuckled.</p><p>“No. I imagined something altogether different. But this is interesting.”</p><p>It didn’t quite feel like a spanking. The sensation was similar to when Cressida had conjured a whip—light on impact, but with a sharper sting than a smack. The spell licked her skin again and Narcissa clutched at Minerva’s arms, exhaled heavily. Minerva stepped closer and embraced her, running her fingers over Narcissa’s shoulders and kissing her cheek.</p><p>“Are you very sorry you were so immodest, Ms. Black?”</p><p>“Yes, very much so.”</p><p>Narcissa could feel her blood rushing in an upstroke, tinting her skin red. It was difficult to stay still, but knowing that Minerva had wanted to maintain eye contact, she made a deliberate effort to keep her head level. The next few lashes landed over sensitized skin and suddenly the pain was acuter. She cried out and tears lined her eyes, and immediately Minerva had her wand out.</p><p>“No.”</p><p>Narcissa took deep breaths and the pain started to settle and disperse. She tensed in anticipation of the next lash, though the spell followed a set tempo and didn’t tease her. When it came, the pain was followed by an incredible high. Her vision blurred a bit, but she kept her eyes on Minerva, even as the paced lashings lulled her body into a near stupor. She swayed, but Minerva made sure there was no risk of her falling, and the dizziness felt a bit delicious.</p><p>It took her a little while to notice when it ended. She pouted and Minerva seemed extremely amused.</p><p>“How are you feeling?”</p><p>“Tender.”</p><p>“Yes, but did you enjoy it?”</p><p>“You can assert that yourself.”</p><p>Narcissa shifted closer, spacing her legs and pressing her hips against Minerva's, leaving no ambiguity as to what the invitation meant. One of Minerva's hands came to rest on the small of her back, but that was the only action she took.</p><p>“I am demanding a report, Ms. Black.”</p><p>“It felt … exquisite,” she admitted and felt the blush unfurling on her cheeks. She didn’t know quite how to describe the thrilling liminal space she had been in, teetering been exhilaration and fear of the pain, followed by the pain itself, quite intense, but pleasurable too.</p><p>“I suppose I will accept that short report. This time.”</p><p>Minerva helped her into bed, put warming spells over her body. She felt dazed and almost dozed off while Minerva applied a cool paste to her bum.</p><p>“I don’t mind marks,” she said, recognizing the smell of the healing ointment.</p><p>“I will keep that in mind, but I would still prefer that you are fully healed.”</p><p>Narcissa chanced a look over her shoulder. Her skin was streaked with welts, but not broken, and she figured that without interference she would still have fully healed, though not immediately. But Minerva's overzealousness was sweet and welcome. It was nice to be taken care of, even if she didn’t feel the need for it. </p><p>She settled her head on the pillow and relaxed. </p><p>Minerva caressed the back of her thighs and inched up towards her pussy. She was swollen with arousal and yet, she didn’t crave release.</p><p>“Later,” she mumbled. “Just hold me for now.”</p><p>“Of course, sweetheart,” Minerva responded and Narcissa felt something inside her throb at the endearment. “Just let me know if you need something, whatever you need.”</p><p>Narcissa nodded and mumbled something unintelligible. She felt tired and sleepy. She couldn’t think of anything she might need at the moment besides knowing that Minerva was there for her and that she wasn’t going to leave. Often after her encounters with Cressida, she had needed to sneak back into her own dorm. Narcissa didn’t hold Cressida at fault for it, but she didn’t miss having to get dressed and walk back to her bedroom while still in a haze. It had always wrecked her a little and it was wonderful to be able to fall asleep in Minerva’s arms and wake up knowing she would still be there.         </p><p>Minerva pulled the sheets over her, but slipped her arms under them and around Narcissa, whose eyes fell shut as soon as Minerva’s lips doted over her skin.</p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. December, 1979</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Narcissa stood, disrobed and facing the wall. It had become their ritual. Sometimes, Minerva satisfied her right away and sometimes, she teased her by prolonging the anticipation, standing out of sight while Narcissa became increasingly aroused. Narcissa preferred those times. Feeling Minerva’s eyes on her exposed body made her ache and it thrilled her that Minerva found the sight of her so stirring.</p><p>Sometimes, like now, Narcissa could hear the quickening of her breathing, the rustle of fabric as Minerva removed her clothes, the sound of wet thrusts. Narcissa’s own breathing was becoming hard to control—she wanted to watch as Minerva she touched herself, wanted to do <em>something</em>, but she couldn’t even squeeze her legs shut for some friction, because Minerva had ordered her to keep her legs apart and she was intent on complying.</p><p>When Minerva started speaking, her voice husky and faltering, Narcissa was relieved that at least she was being given a diversion, because her fingers had been twitching to reach between her own legs in disobedience.</p><p>“How are your studies proceeding?”</p><p>“Wonderfully.”</p><p>“Are you exploring any particular subjects?”</p><p>“I have been reading History for the most part. There are several manuscripts at the Center about the settling of Siberia by matriarchal covens, and I am fascinated, as you can imagine, as my family rears from that region.”</p><p>“I didn’t know that.”</p><p>“They do. While the muggle Russian Court settled on the West of Russia, we favored the East for its harsh conditions, which were natural deterrents for the muggles. They were apparently very fragile back then, vulnerable to strong drafts and fearful of the punishing Siberian winters. It also seems we descend from different people, not only in terms of magic. Great-granny says we are Ruthenian and always will be, regardless of which territories we occupy or which borders are drawn, and I wanted to know what that meant. I wish we had more subjects like that at Hogwarts. Sometimes, I feel like I learned next to nothing about the world. Not that this is your fault or responsibility.”</p><p>“I am the Deputy Headmistress, Narcissa. If the Curriculum is faulty, it is my responsibility.”</p><p>“I am sure it is more complicated than that. I can think of no one in my family—not my sisters, not my cousins—who would have wanted more History. Bellatrix and Sirius would probably have wanted ten classes on curses, and Andromeda was always focused on anything related to healing. I was never the more practical one, so … It made me think of other girls like me, those who don’t have extraordinary family libraries and the chance for further study. It made me think of how you feel about accessibility and how maybe one school isn’t enough, and we need more options.”</p><p>“I think we could all benefit from Wizarding Universities, more research, more everything.”</p><p>“Maybe one day, when that man is gone from our lives, we can tackle that.”</p><p>“What else are you studying?”</p><p>Narcissa made sure her shoulders didn’t sag and that her posture didn’t change at Minerva’s change of topic. She hadn’t expected Minerva to accept her offer, but she had hoped Minerva would at least acknowledge that Narcissa didn’t want to live in a world where Voldemort had power any more than Minerva did. She was privileged to be abroad and to know that despite bearing the mark, Lucius spent most of his time in the continent as well, supposedly spreading the word about their cause or some nonsense (she doubted it, since Lucius was not an industrious or dedicated person, no matter how much he believed in the principles of blood supremacy). She knew that created a chasm between herself and Minerva, making any political positions she took moot. She just wished they would address it.</p><p>“Well, I am also reading about the physiology of magic and how it affects the brain. Reading in Russian is a bit more difficult than reading in English, but thankfully my mother made sure I was fluent. She tried to make sure we were all fluent, but I am afraid neither Bellatrix nor Andromeda had an interest in languages. Next semester, I am attending lectures on the effects of casting different types of magic on the brain. That is, if I can master my Polish, as Poniatowski is not known to loosen his standards and teach in Russian.”</p><p>“That seems very ambitious, sweetheart.”</p><p>Narcissa flinched. She knew Minerva had meant it as a compliment, but she hated how condescending it sounded.</p><p>“Well, I would hate to waste this opportunity, an opportunity I am only enjoying because I was shrewd enough to secure a marriage to a man who has learning opportunities of his own elsewhere, and because I am very wealthy, of course.”</p><p>“Cissa, I did not mean to imply you are undeserving of your position.”</p><p>“Yes, you did,” Narcissa said under her breath. “I am sure there are many hardworking students you would have take my place if it was your choice, since I am not to be of much use to society.”</p><p>Narcissa didn’t hear Minerva moving, so when the older woman stood in front of her, it gave her a scare. Minerva placed a hand at the small of her back and waited for her to calm.</p><p>“That is not true. I simply believe that unless dangerous to immature minds, knowledge shouldn’t be kept secreted away. I believe the Wizarding World needs more schools and libraries and learning institutions. I think we both agree on that, sweetheart. You were just saying the very same thing.”</p><p>“I know. I just can’t help but feel you might wish I would do something brave with the education I am privileged to get.”</p><p>Narcissa lowered her gaze, although having Minerva’s breasts in her line of sight was doing nothing to help her empty and soothe her mind, and Minerva was soon right there, seeking her eyes, intercepting her wandering thoughts.</p><p>“I hate that you honestly believe I don’t support you getting an education. Wanting it for everyone is not the same as not wanting it for you. You deserve it as much as anyone else. And I know for a young woman in your position, it takes courage to pursue an education, to risk the gossip and the ensuing family wrath from your in-laws. I know it is brave for you to be occupied with learning instead of focusing on conceiving an heir. It is brave to carve your own path, even if you don’t know where it will lead or how to use that knowledge just yet.”</p><p>Narcissa shut her eyes, because it was too difficult to admit this, and she did not think she could do it while facing Minerva.</p><p>“Sometimes, I worry you don’t respect me.”</p><p>“I couldn’t love a woman I don’t respect,” Minerva said.</p><p>Narcissa felt something inside her snarl and revolt.</p><p>“You don’t love me, Minerva.”</p><p>“I do not make a habit of becoming intimate with someone I have no hope of loving. I do not make a habit of returning to a woman’s bed only to give her false hope.”</p><p>Narcissa knew Minerva hadn’t meant to insult or injure her feelings. However, she was also certain that Minerva’s heart wasn’t settled on her, that Minerva’s mind could provide her with regular reminders that Narcissa’s lifestyle and still evolving views were anathema to everything she fought for.</p><p>“I know you wish … you wish you could come home to someone who is the same as you. Who is willing to fight by your side. And I’m not that person.”</p><p>Her eyes burned, so she kept them closed, and Minerva ran her thumbs over her moist eyelids, collecting the tears that insisted on leaking. Narcissa felt her fingers threading through her hair.</p><p>“How did we run into each other, do you remember?”</p><p>Narcissa said “yes” but her larynx seemed to be knotted and the word couldn’t be untangled. So she nodded instead. Minerva touched her cheek to Narcissa's, placed her arms around Narcissa's shaking shoulders.</p><p>“I had met a woman. I will not reveal her name. She had told me about how Heksen Huis had been so generous in providing her with a safe refuge. I told her there might be a time soon, or maybe we were at that point already, when muggleborns and blended families might have need of a safe refuge, when other vulnerable children might have need of safe refuge, so she pointed me in the right direction.</p><p>“Every time I walk into an Order meeting and see a student that was in my classroom just months before, my heart breaks. Every time I hear a former student who I have barely sent out into the world is dead, I die a little. If I could prevent any of them from doing it, if I could do it all myself and fix things on my own, I would choose that. I do not want to hear about your broken body or your death. I could not bear it. I can barely bear it as it is, which is the real reason why I sought Zenobia. So whenever I know of someone who is at risk and who wants to go into hiding, I can tell them exactly how, I can help them get to safety.</p><p>“And safety, oftentimes, is right here in Amsterdam, in a safe home across the same canal we can see from our windows, sometimes eating the food you send over there. Sometimes, they have left almost everything behind in Britain, but they needn’t worry, because the Huis is well-funded, and they will be given everything they need for however long they need it. They will be given new identities if they want them. They will be set up with language tutoring and allowances and jobs. They will be helped by the very charity you dedicate so much of your own resources to. When you are there, and I know you are there frequently, do you ever try and deny access to people with different birth circumstances?”</p><p>“No, I—</p><p>“Do you ever ask them why they had to flee?”</p><p>“Yes," she choked, then hid her face in embarrassment. She had heard Bellatrix's name mentioned more than once.</p><p>“And when they tell you, do you still help them?”</p><p>“Yes, of course.”</p><p>“So you know you are helping muggleborn refugees and that hasn’t stopped you.”</p><p>“I’m only here during the Summer.”</p><p>“Well, your galleons are there all the time.”  </p><p>“Does that even count?”</p><p>“It’s not <em>nothing</em>. You are doing something and I respect that. I know you are afraid. I know that you don’t know how to fight and you don’t want to, and I respect that. I might feel differently if I thought you were doing nothing, or worse than nothing. You could have spent the past few years throwing balls back home. I hear the Parkinsons threw a lovely Samhaim Celebration a couple of months ago, and soon there will be several Yule Balls—the Greengrasses will have one, so will the Flints—and if they are hosting Voldermort or using their salons to drum up support, how can we stop them? How can we even know? You could have been doing that or you could have been putting your money behind your husband’s Master, like so many people are doing quietly. But you have been spending your free time and energy and money helping those in need. That counts. If people have no option of fleeing to safety, protecting their children, protecting their muggle or squib partners and relatives, they will get slaughtered. Fighting is important, but making sure the next generation is safe and healthy and happy counts too.</p><p>“I respect you, Narcissa. I respect you and I fully respect your choices. I don’t know what to make of my feelings—</p><p>“You don’t have to say you love me.”</p><p>“I care for you. I am fond of you. I couldn’t bear losing you. Is that enough?”</p><p>Narcissa opened her eyes and as she did, tears trickled over the fingers Minerva still kept on her face.</p><p>“I just want to feel that I am enough for <em>you</em>.”</p><p>“Of course you are, my darling. And I really only wanted to hear about your studies, because I am curious and sometimes nosy, and because I enjoy hearing you talk about subjects you feel passionate about. I wasn’t trying to upset you. I was definitely not trying to make you feel like this.”</p><p>“I suppose I feel inadequate all on my own.”</p><p>“Don’t. You are exceptional in your own way and your accomplishments are your own.”</p><p>Narcissa rested her head on Minerva’s breast then and let the older woman hold her tenderly. The moon shone on their pale bodies, and they swayed in place, Minerva doing her best to comfort Narcissa. When the tears ceased, they moved to the bed, their usual scene aborted. Minerva held Narcisa close and dropped soft kisses onto Narcissa’s throat.</p><p>“Would you like me to start talking about books again to get you in the mood?” Narcissa asked.</p><p>“Oh, shush.”</p><p>“I have more I can say about learning. I went to the bookshop yesterday.”</p><p>Narcissa started giggling and Minerva clamped a hand over her mouth. She lifted her head and tried to glare at Narcissa, but her eyes were heavy-lidded and her pupils were spilling like a tide changing. Minerva kissed her breasts and abdomen in a leisure pace, but her mouth became hungrier, her lips pinching the skin possessively. Narcissa moaned and when Minerva moved to remove her hand, she held it in place. The way Minerva looked at her in response made her shiver.</p><p>Narcissa legs opened, inviting Minerva, and she followed the scent of Narcissa’s arousal, slipped her tongue into her slick folds.</p><p>Narcissa arched her hips and writhed, making Minerva hold her still to continue licking her, which obviously led to whining. Narcissa’s fingers flitted over her breasts, pinched her nipples, and without even having to look at her, Minerva sensed what she was doing and replaced Narcissa’s fingers with her own. Narcissa usually preferred when Minerva scolded her for such things, but she couldn’t complain when Minerva was not only squeezing her nipples, but rubbing a tingling magic onto them.</p><p>As stoic as Narcissa tried to be with outsiders, she was emotive in private. Her reactions were always vocal during intimate moments, and at that moment, they were even more pronounced, her moans escaping her faster than she could utter them. She curled towards Minerva, her nails scraping Minerva’s skin and her hair falling over Minerva’s head like a curtain.</p><p>She was often quick to crest, but this time it came in a sudden onset, her muscles contracting so forcefully, she was stunned, and she closed her lips over Minerva’s shoulder to avoid screaming. When she recovered her breath, she looked up at Minerva with a mischievous glint in her eyes.</p><p>“When are you going to discipline me? I have been waiting forever,” she complained and pouted, and Minerva rolled her eyes in that affectionate way that made Narcissa giddy.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. July, 1983</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Please.”</p><p>Sweat beaded over Narcissa’s shoulders, trickled down her back. She was on her knees in their bedroom—or what she had come to think of as their bedroom, since she had brought no other women here—her back to the canal facing windows. There were no curtains, just a mild blurring spell that possibly didn’t hide the fact that she was naked, head tilted in begging. She didn’t care. She hadn’t cared in years. The Dark Lord was dead, her father-in-law was dead, so many of the people who might do more than sneer at her choices were sitting in cells in Azkaban. Bellatrix was one of them, thank Morgana.</p><p>When she had found herself pregnant, she hadn’t hesitated before moving to Amsterdam full-time. Lucius often came and visited her, so he could dote on her (and later on both her and Draco), before going back home to do she didn’t know what. But the most frequent visitor she had during those years had surprisingly been Minerva.</p><p>Though Minerva hadn’t begrudged her fleeing, the war had still been a heavy weight between them, and those two years had been the worst during the war, as the resistance had been losing ground. She had worried about Minerva constantly, then worried even more when Lucius was asked by Voldemort and his father to return to Britain, just as Aurors had been given power to use unforgivables on suspected Death Eaters. She had been sure she would lose them both. She had seen first-hand the hopelessness in the faces of those who had fled, and while she had tried to remain stoic and helpful when she was volunteering her time at the Huis, hearing the refugees' stories had made despair.</p><p>Despite Minerva’s constant assurances, and Lucius pleads that she stay away, she had resented herself for not doing more and guilt had made afraid that if Minerva didn’t die, she would judge her, she would leave her. But Minerva herself seemed to want to escape when she came home. Minerva frequently traveled to Amsterdam escorting asylum seekers and whenever she crossed the threshold of the townhouse, she seemed desperate to shed the fear and tension from the trip, the horrors from back home. Her eyes had often been haunted and Narcissa had done her best to restore their usual intelligent spark (Draco, an infant at the time, had been far more successful than her).</p><p>Minerva’s eyes were thankfully mellow and joyful that night. They had been peaceful for so long now, Minerva’s eyes had taken on a permanent softness. So she asked and blushed, and now Minerva stood before her, still mostly dressed, her eyebrow characteristically arched. Powerful. Narcissa felt bare in more ways than the physical.</p><p>She loved that Minerva had taken control of their lovemaking, that she exhibited a natural disposition for it. She was not dissatisfied. In fact, Minerva had always made sure her desires were met. But there were things Narcissa still hadn’t asked for out loud.</p><p>Narcissa was sure the request would not be shocking, not since their first brush with Narcissa’s more unconventional desires, but it wasn’t something she had prepared Minerva for and so she felt guilty, once again, that she was putting Minerva in this position, but she had gone on wanting and wanting and wanting, her lust bottomless, impossible to satiate. She had been craving this for so long. She needed it. She needed to at least ask for it. She had done her own research, her own preparations. She was able to walk Minerva through it, if Minerva was willing.</p><p>“Please what, my dear?”</p><p>“Will you please tie me up?”</p><p>Minerva brushed a finger against Narcissa’s jaw, her throat. Her face was stoic, offering no indication of her inclination. Narcissa was about to despair.</p><p>“And then what?” Minerva asked after what felt like a lifetime. “What do you want me to do to you once I have you restrained?”</p><p>Narcissa shuddered, her eyes fluttered closed, but she forced them open once more so she could hold Minerva’s gaze.</p><p>“Whatever you wish, Professor.”</p><p>“Have you done this before?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“Yes, Professor,” Minerva corrected.</p><p>“Yes, Professor.”</p><p>Narcissa smiled, felt lighter.</p><p>“Good, pay attention. Learn something,” she said and whipped out her wand, conjured several lengths of rope.</p><p>“Yes, professor.”</p><p>“Never use <em>Incarcerous</em> unless you want very little control over your materials. You should always transfigure things to suit your tastes.”</p><p>Narcissa watched as Minerva dealt with the floating cords. They still looked plain, their color natural, but it was clear their texture and smoothness was being altered. Narcissa was surprised with the depth of Minerva’s knowledge, though she knew she shouldn’t be—it was in Minerva’s nature to go beyond expectations and be overprepared. She had been silly to think she would need to teach Minerva anything.</p><p>“Ropes should always have safety spells on them.”</p><p>Minerva did the wand movements slowly, so Narcissa could grasp them. She taught her each one several times and Narcissa murmured them under her breath, a slight pressure building in her lower abdomen as she did.</p><p>“Are they keyed to my safe word?”</p><p>“They are keyed to your feelings. If you are in distress, they will undo themselves. Your safe word is for me.”</p><p>“I thought <em>your </em>feelings were keyed to my feelings,” she replied cheekily.</p><p>Minerva rubbed a thumb over her lips and Narcissa moaned, clenched her thighs. She was wet and her clit throbbed, straining against the new position, getting more swollen for being constrained in this way. Minerva took advantage, spelled a length of rope into coiling around her legs, just above her knees, flicked her wand to send a vibration to Narcissa’s nub. She gasped and grabbed Minerva’s wrist.</p><p>“Do you want to stop?” Minerva asked and her voice sounded genuinely worried.</p><p>“No! Morgana, if you stop, I might die.”</p><p>She tried to get more friction out of the spell, but it was not responsive to her wandless commands. It dissipated and she whined.</p><p>“Place your hands behind your back and I might grant you another one.”</p><p>Narcissa was swift. Her arms were crossed at the wrists against the small of her back before Minerva could finish her sentence.</p><p>The rope felt buttery against her wrists but it was bound snuggly, and Narcissa could not break free. Just the way she liked it. And it did not stop at her wrists. It slithered up, enfolding her lower arms, wrapping itself around her elbows and pushing them together until it became painful. The rope stopped then and loosened a bit, giving her some slack until she was comfortable again. She was amazed at how well the spell worked—not that she had expected faulty spellwork from Minerva McGonagall.</p><p>She was thoroughly bound, her arms pinned to restrict her movements almost completely. Cressida had only ever tied her to the bed. This was new and different and amazing.</p><p>Minerva delivered on her promise and aimed another stimulation spell at her clit. This one started with heat, turned into short jolts of magic that cursed through her clitoris, transformed into something deeper—a rumble that spread through her whole pussy—and then the different layers of the spell seemed to merge into an amalgam of sensations.</p><p>“Is that what you wanted, my darling?”</p><p>“Yes, professor,” she panted between moans.</p><p>Minerva moved closer and pinched her nipples and she was already so close, but it would have been such a waste to orgasm so fast. So she stopped contracting her muscles on purpose, though there was nothing she could do about the involuntary spasms. She tried to stave off climax so she could stay bound longer, so they could both experience it at the same time, but it felt impossible.</p><p>“Let go, Cissa. There will be more.”</p><p>She did let go and release was immediate and strong. The pleasure seemed to touch the tips of her toes and fingers. It drained her lungs, blurred her vision. She tilted forward and Minerva kneeled and caught her.</p><p>Narcissa rested her head against Minerva, still gasping for breath, but Minerva was already circling her entrance with a finger. Once Narcissa’s breathing settled, Minerva pushed in, then added another finger and thrust gently. Her hand was squeezed so awkwardly between Narcissa’s legs that Narcissa was not sure how she did it, but she managed to fuck her to the edge again, then shift her fingers deeper inside so she was brushing Narcissa’s little spongy nub.</p><p>Narcissa’s chest heaved, her erect nipples rubbing against the embroidery on Minerva’s dress and tightening. She inhaled sharply and Minerva noticed it and caressed her breasts with her free hand.</p><p>“I want to taste you.”</p><p>“Patience, Ms. Black, is a virtue.”</p><p>“Yes, Professor.”</p><p>She hated not being able to touch Minerva, to feel her, which made the bondage feel real and more exciting. So despite of her assenting words, she squirmed against the ropes, nipped at Minerva’s neck. The limitations and her inability to overcome them actually thrilled her, and she became a bit wild, her lips moving over Minerva without intention or moderation.</p><p>In response, Minerva grabbed her hair—not rough, but with her typical firmness—and pulled her away, her nails scraping Narcissa’s scalp and causing the younger woman’s mouth to drop open with none of the elegance she was already known for. Minerva’s fingers retreated from Narcissa’s sensitive spot, just as she was cresting, and settled against the back of her thighs, caressing it only to tantalize.</p><p>“You will have me when I desire and in the manner which I desire. Do you understand me, Ms. Black?”</p><p>“Yes, Professor.”</p><p>Minerva stood then, making her whimper in confusion.</p><p>“Narcissa. You know I would never lie to you.”</p><p>Narcissa blinked. Her mind was foggy and finding words and using them in speech felt like trying to find happiness when stuck among dementors.</p><p>Minerva levitated her body and laid her on the bed, the coolness of the sheets a shock against Narcissa’s heated skin. She shivered and Minerva lay on top of her, sharing her warmth, holding her into place, brushing her hair in a soothing motion. The constrictions started to make her feel trapped, anxious, so the ropes around her arms eased so she could shift, uncross her wrists, find a more comfortable position. Her lungs were able to freely fill themselves with air, so she focused on taking deep breaths, and started to feel soothed.</p><p>“See? I’m not going anywhere. And I do not leave things unfinished.”</p><p>Narcissa settled down then, though she didn’t understand what had upset her so much in the first place. Cressida had teased her plenty in bed, and she trusted Minerva even more than she did Cressi. She had asked for discipline and Minerva was certainly delivering it. So why had she despaired when Minerva pulled away?</p><p>“Do you want to continue?”</p><p>“Yes. Just don’t leave me.”</p><p>“I won’t. I’m right here,” Minerva whispered, her lips soft on Narcissa’s cheek.</p><p>Minerva released the rope around her thighs and directed it toward her ankles. Instead of binding them together, however, the rope looped around each ankle and then wound around the rope connecting them until it became a thick, stiff coil spreading Narcissa’s legs open. Narcissa tested it, but there must have been an additional spell in place, because there was no give and the reality of not being able to shut her legs made her toes curl.</p><p>Minerva’s hands grabbed the underside of her knees and bent them towards her chest, spreading them so Narcissa was as exposed as she could possibly be. Minerva sat back, her knees pressing against Narcissa’s butt cheeks, her nails brushing Narcissa’s sides while Narcissa squirmed against the ropes. She felt vulnerable. Her first instinct was to cover herself, but there was something about the way Minerva’s gaze devoured her that made her feel so safe in her helplessness.</p><p>“That is so devious of you,” Narcissa said, her voice hoarse. “Perhaps you have some Slytherin in you, after all.”</p><p>“I’m a Lioness. Period. I only lie with Snakes. Find them beautiful. And fascinating. And enjoyable company. But that’s really all.”</p><p>Minerva punctuated her declarations with kisses to Narcissa’s breasts and abdomen, her hands delicate on Narcissa’s skin as if in worship, and Narcissa’s skin prickled under all the consideration being lavished upon it, her body tensed to the limit like the strings of the violin she had played as a child (with her fingertips dusted in powered dittany to prevent marks and callouses). Her hips lifted off the bed, but Minerva pushed her down, a tender hand on her navel. The other stroked Narcissa’s clitoris, teased incoherent noises out of her.</p><p>She felt swollen and tender. Every brush of Minerva’s fingers against her stabbed her with pleasure, despite the slickness that should have deterred Minerva from causing too much friction. Her whole body was seized by pleasure, her muscles seemingly coiled into it, while waves of sensation broke over and over, keeping her from catching her breath or willing a thought into being.</p><p>Minerva didn’t stop. Narcissa felt as if her clitoris was being suckled on and the tips of Minerva’s fingers were expanding inside her. It was strange and despite still feeling a bit delirious, she made an effort to open her eyes, only to realize Minerva was standing beside the bed, removing her dress.</p><p>“Do you like the spells, my flower?”</p><p>Narcissa’s voice again faltered, so she nodded.</p><p>“Good, I learned them just to please you.”</p><p>“My clitoris feels funny. What is it doing?”</p><p>“Drawing the blood to your little nub, so it will be engorged and sensitive. I figured since you like to be punished for your excesses, I might as well show you what too much of a good thing can do.”</p><p>Narcissa tried to squeeze her legs shut and the result was that both Minerva’s words and the bondage only aroused her more, helping the spell instead of diminishing its effects. She moaned, but she could already sense Minerva’s intentions coming to fruition in the spell. Her clitoris throbbed in a manner that filled her with need, but there was a layer of discomfort to it, like an overused muscle that was not quite sore yet, but hinting at it.</p><p>“And the other?”</p><p>Minerva pushed her skirt down to the floor, baring herself to Narcissa completely. Narcissa lost herself gazing at her. She always did. Usually Minerva exerted power by undressing at an agonizing pace during their games and her neck and collarbones were all Narcissa had to lust after, so her undressing always felt momentous, an action that demanded total attention and focused lust. So distracted was Narcissa with Minerva’s gentle curves and soft breasts and silky skin that she missed Minerva doing another movement with her wand. Whatever was inside her swelled and she shrieked, surprised.</p><p>“It’s nothing that will harm you, obviously. In fact, there is nothing in you and nothing is physically happening to you. But you will feel progressively filled.”</p><p>“That’s shrewd of you,” Narcissa said, panting, her chest feeling heavy already.</p><p>Minerva smirked and moved to the bed. She climbed on and sat astride Narcissa’s face.</p><p>“Do you want me?”</p><p>“Yes! Yes. Please.”</p><p>Minerva lowered herself onto her face then, and though Narcissa felt no weight at all on her, she still felt a bit smothered, like everything around her had constricted and all her senses had been stifled. But then she smelled Minerva’s arousal, her scent sharper than usual, and it made her mouth water. Her tongue shot up, a bit clumsily at first, but once she tasted Minerva, it was as if she was slipping into a salvia cigarette high. Something in her loosened, relaxed. She was giddy and all she could concentrate on was Minerva’s engorged clit, how it felt supple but firm against her lips, its salty but deep taste.</p><p>Minerva moved her hips, first gently, but then with increasing force. Narcissa sucked her even more dutifully, not letting the jerkiness of Minerva’s movements dislodge her. The way Minerva was riding her and smearing her juices all over her actually made her more aroused, and her walls started clenching around the expanding phantom sensation in her pussy. She groaned and as if on cue, she felt herself stretched almost to the limit and her clit pulsed with a faint pain. She writhed and her wild motions pushed Minerva over the edge, making her clasp her legs around Narcissa’s head and release her juices into her mouth.</p><p>Minerva cupped her pussy, ran a finger through Narcissa’s clitoris. The pain was immediate, followed by a deeper, thrumming pleasure, and Narcissa cried out, but continued to lick Minerva’s folds. Inside, her walls seemed to be on the verge of tearing, and when Minerva pinched her nub she nearly bit her, so staggering was the mixture of pain and pleasure that hit her.</p><p>Minerva lifted herself and brushed Narcissa’s hair off her face. Her palm felt cold compared to Narcissa’s flesh and Narcissa shivered, perhaps from the contact, but certainly also because Minerva nudged her clit one more time.</p><p>“Do you remember your safe word?” Minerva asked.</p><p>Narcissa started saying it, but the exact words escaped her and she mumbled something that was not it. Minerva moved to the side, frowning in concern.</p><p>“Lemon drops,” she answered a few seconds later.</p><p>“Do you want to use it?”</p><p>“No. Minerva, please, I just need to—”</p><p>“I know.”</p><p>The spells were removed, though the one on her clit didn’t quite vanish. Narcissa wasn’t sure if it was residual magic or just the after-effects of it, but her clitoris still stung. Minerva’s palm put pressure on it as she fingered Narcissa, searching for her internal pleasure spot and the pain immediately turned into blinding pleasure. This time, there was no build-up, no tease.</p><p>Almost as soon as Minerva curled her fingers, Narcissa screamed. Her vision went dark and when it cleared again, she was free of the ropes, curled into Minerva. She sighed, closed her eyes, enjoyed the coolness of Minerva’s skin, ran her lips through her collarbone in a rhythm that let her mind stay blank. Minerva ran her fingertips through the curve of Narcissa’s spine, played with her hair.</p><p>Narcissa opened her eyes and watched Minerva, the peaceful expression on her face, the quietness in her eyes, feeling such fondness that her lips itched to kiss her.</p><p>She was infatuated, she knew. She couldn’t stop exploring Minerva’s body, noticing the birth marks and the subtle signs of age, breathing in her smell, herbal and citrusy, such a (auspicious) sensory depart from the older women in her life, her aunts and removed cousins, all of them perfumed into floral accents, a collective garden of ladies whose scents were chosen by their mothers. Narcissa herself had stopped using the essential oils magically pressed from Narcissus as soon as she had come of age. Now she bathed with powdered charged crystals and cleansing tea tree potions. She liked to think she smelled of forest and of power, though in Minerva’s arms she always felt safe to let go of her armors.</p><p>“Is there anything else I can do for you? A hot bath? Something to eat?” Minerva asked.</p><p>They had created a habit after these sessions. Narcissa enjoyed being held after them; it made her feel cared for and safe, and Minerva had always been great at providing her with that. But they had also taken to enjoying shared baths after sex and after a while Minerva started to allow Narcissa to take care of her too by doing little things like washing her hair and making tea for them enjoy between acts.</p><p>It had taken some time for Narcissa to realize that Minerva wouldn’t and never did ask for care and attention. Narcissa had needed to ask why, in the most straightforward manner, for Minerva to admit she didn’t want to become someone else she had to take care of, on top of a husband, an infant, and her Aunt Cassiopeia, whose health wasn’t reliable anymore. It hadn’t been easy to disabuse Minerva out of the notion that this was a problem, but their frequent debates over other issues had primed Narcissa on how to win arguments against Minerva.</p><p>Once she had, they had settled on full tea between scenes—their time to decompress and eat and talk about how they were feeling. At first, Minerva had been adamant about taking tea on the sitting area, her fastidiousness asserting itself, but Narcissa had also been able to convince her that crumbles and manners should hardly be a deterrent to having chocolate cake in bed if that was what one needed (or wanted). Now Minerva just usually summoned cake to bed.</p><p>Narcissa checked the clock on the side table, even though there was no need. Lucius never brought Draco to Amsterdam without her firecalling him first and she knew that they were in Finland anyways. Later that week, Narcissa would join them and they would all travel to Lucius’s mother’s home in the north, so Draco could spend his days being spoiled rotten and drinking enough hot chocolate to turn his blood brown. But for now, they should be at the townhouse Lucius kept in Helsinki, enjoying some father-son time, time she was loathe to interrupt.</p><p>Narcissa felt guilt that Lucius even needed special time with his son, of course. She wanted her child to be raised by both parents, simultaneously. It had been different during the War. It had been dangerous. It had made sense for her to live in the Netherlands with Draco, since she had her aunt a few blocks away and an easy portkey journey to her grandparents’ second house in Morges. But now that the War was finished, she wanted to raise her son with her husband, wanted something of a joint life together, and she knew these days with Minerva would become rare. Maybe that was why she was tracking the hours as if they were escaping her.</p><p>“Not yet. Just stay here with me for now. Don’t let go.”</p>
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<a name="section0006"><h2>6. August, 2003</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Warning: There is no smut in this chapter. I just wanted to give them closure.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>After the War, she didn’t know if she would still be welcome in her community. She didn’t know how much people knew, or how they would choose to judge it against the person she was when she was free to be a person she might like.</p><p>Some had been understandably unsettled by the side she had found herself during the War. Some had demanded answers and explanations, had told she was not welcome, and asked her how she could reconcile her activism for her community with her other prejudices. Some had supported her—more, in all truth, than she had expected—those who understood that you do what you have to do to survive; those who were mothers, who would also have put their children above all else, perhaps selfishly, but without regret. In the end, she was exactly where she had always been, she had friends, she had some lovers, she had unwavering support and loyalty, and there were many people who wanted nothing to do with her. It was enough. It had to be enough, because she had never earned the right to ask for anything else.</p><p>She only hopes Huis had still been Minerva’s organization of choice for getting people out of the country during the Second War, because once Lucius’s mark started darkening she made sure to donate a few millions galleons to them. She kept lines of communication closed after that, not wanting to risk anyone’s life. She has donated a few million more galleons after the War, but she is certain that nothing she does out of remorse is of much value at that point, and she has stayed away from most charitable endeavors related to what happened, so none of the victims would feel pressed to forgive or tolerate her in order to get assistance.  </p><p>She has left England for good. Her son is grown and Lucius is feeling more like himself, so it feels right. They are still married, and she still visits him at least twice a month. Sometimes, he visits her, brings her flowers and herbs from the Manor’s gardens, which he tends to as a distraction. They are not intimate, but then again they haven’t been intimate since they conceived Draco.</p><p>Lucius had once shielded her from the possibility of a cruel marriage, forced relations. She is not sure she can stop being grateful to him or that her loyalty to him will ever completely disintegrate. She loves him, but some days he is better loved from a distance.</p><p>The War had shattered his loyalty to that man (that <em>thing</em>), but not his convictions. He held on to his beliefs. And there had been too much pain <em>because</em> of their beliefs for Narcissa to bear even think of them anymore.</p><p>She tries not to think of everything she had once held on to, certain that it would keep her family together.</p><p>She does not think of Minerva. The last time they had been in physical proximity, they had been on opposing sides of a terrible battle. And she had not allowed her heart to be tender for anyone other than her son and her husband.</p><p>Looking back still makes her feel raw. All the senseless deaths. She does not wish to think of England and all the other survivors. She wants to forget. She tries to forget. So the past seeks her out.</p><p>It’s not the same bar. This is one new, a recent addition to their neighborhood, and Sammer wants to celebrate his birthday there, not because it’s popular, he says, but because he wants to support new entrepreneurs in their community. She can’t fault his logic, however untruthful she knows it to be. She’s met the owner and he’s hot. He’s Sammer’s type. But it’s her best friend’s birthday and who is she to deny him his desires?</p><p>It’s darker than she would have liked, and a lot louder than she anticipated. She feels too old for it. She wants her bed and a book, but she buys Sammer a bottle of obscenely expensive, aged Japanese Firewhisky instead and for her 3000 galleons, they are shown to a table in the corner. She has to make due with a sofa and noise control wards that they don’t use because everyone else wants to hear the music.</p><p>She gets a headache. She wants to leave, but knows she can’t. You don’t leave your friend’s birthday and Sammer has been nothing but supportive of her for the past thirty years. She sips her drink, lets him coax her into dancing. He screams the lyrics at her and she feels them in her chest, and for a second, she forgets everything and she is happy. She sings with him and they spin until they are dizzy, and everything is terrible in a very normal way—they are sweaty in a smelly bar, her stomach is revolting against her antics, the glitter in Sammer’s hair is starting to assault her skin, she will need sleep soon. She likes her life in that moment. And then of course Sammer sees a guy and disappears.</p><p>She wants to chase after him and drag him back, but it <em>is</em> his birthday. His forty-fifth birthday, meaning he won’t look twenty-eight much longer. Her other friends are less attuned to her body language, so they don’t notice her tensing. She grabs her drink and steals a salvia cigarette from the table. She doesn’t smoke, not anymore, but it’s always a good excuse to go outside, despite the fact that most salvia cigarettes are spelled to be smokeless. It’s a sort of code for wanting to be alone for a second, or wanting to feel fresh air on your skin. She walks over to the canal, leans against the post and lights it up. The air is so cold, it burns her airways, and she doesn’t bother warming herself.</p><p>When Minerva walks toward her on the street, she feels a stab of pain. She’s walking with someone, a younger witch Narccisa doesn’t recognize, coming from a restaurant owned by one of Narcissa’s exes.</p><p>She had to let Minerva go, had to give up on ever seeing her again, but she hadn’t given any thought of Minerva finding herself in another witch’s arms. And she certainly didn’t expect to see them in her neighborhood. Selfishly, she considers Amsterdam to be her city. It was her always refuge.</p><p>There is a pounding ache between her eyes now. She looks for escape routes, even wonders if she can handle swimming in the canal all the way home. She puts out her prop cigarette, fiddles with her glass, mutters an excuse to go back inside. But Minerva says something to the young woman, moves faster to block her path. And when Minerva reaches her, all she does is sob.</p><p>She covers her mouth, embarrassed and aware that she shouldn’t. She doesn’t deserve to act out her pain like this, not in front of her of all people. She tries to squeeze by and get away, but Minerva holds her arms, gently enough that she could have escaped, but she doesn’t, and Minerva embraces her. She doesn’t know why Minerva thinks she is deserving of it, but she buries her face into her shoulder and cries in earnest. Minerva rubs her back and kisses her temple and she’s bewildered. She can’t begin to process the wrongness of Minerva soothing <em>her</em>.</p><p>“We’re both alive,” Minerva murmurs, as if reading her mind. “Draco is alive. It might as well be a miracle, so let’s not torture ourselves over it.”</p><p>“Minerva …”</p><p>“I pointed my wand at children. Death Eaters, yes, but they had been my own students a year or two before. I had watched them grow in front of me.”</p><p>Narcissa puts her arms around Minerva and holds her tightly. She wishes she could squeeze every drop of guilt out of Minerva, because she doesn't deserve to feel any of it, not when there had been no choice, and not when there had been bigger, more unforgivable transgressions. <em>Hers</em>, for one.</p><p>“They would have killed you if you hadn’t.”</p><p>“And Voldemort would have killed you if you hadn’t submitted to him. Or Draco, or Lucius, which might as well be the same thing.”</p><p>She doesn’t know how to voice how confusing it all is. She has spent the last two years in a form of self-imposed penitence—refusing to write, refusing even to apologize, because she didn’t think it fair to put Minerva in a position to forgive or refuse her. And suddenly Minerva is in front of her, not even asking for an apology.</p><p>“I should let you go,” Narcissa says.</p><p>“Should you now?”</p><p>“You are here with someone else,” Narcissa answers and sounds wounded even to her own ears.</p><p>Minerva gives her one of her patented stares, then sighs.</p><p>“I’m just showing her around the city. She needs somewhere she can go. Somewhere she can be someone else.”</p><p>Narcissa doesn’t ask who <em>she</em> is. She feels jealous and she doesn’t want to convey to Minerva how upset she is about seeing her with another woman, when they haven’t spoken in years and she has no right. After the Dark Lord returned to life, they were as good as done. Narcissa couldn’t have risked so many lives by trying to write her. If the Dark Lord had intercepted even one letter…</p><p>“I suppose I can’t begrudge anyone that,” Narcissa says, without an ounce of sincerity.</p><p>“No. It would be wrong of us to want the next generation to have even less options than we did.”</p><p>Narcissa rolls her eyes and takes a long sip of her Firewhisky before banishing the glass.</p><p>“I told her to walk back to the Hotel. It is not far and I wouldn’t want her to—</p><p>“See us? Why not?” she asks, her voice small, though she knows there is nothing she can say if Minerva’s answer is because she is Narcissa Malfoy.</p><p>“I respect your privacy.”</p><p>“I don’t care if she knows. I don’t care if everyone knows. Draco is an adult now, most of my family is deceased, and I would like … I would like to just live.”</p><p>“How does Lucius feel about that?”</p><p>“How does Lucius feel about anything these days? He would like everything to be exactly as he once planned, and that is not feasible, so he is morose but energetic enough to indulge in his invectives. He was very ill for a while, and I suppose he still struggles—we were held captive and tortured and humiliated and threatened inside our own home— but I cannot stop living until he is ready to accept reality. I cannot spend any more time indulging his hope that there is just one more thing he can do to put us on top again, and I am not entirely certain I ever even knew or cared about what that is supposed to mean. It’s hopeless. I love him, but he needs to stop trying to blame others for his anguishes before he can move on.”</p><p>She had chosen to live as a foreigner in a foreign city, to remove herself from all the expectations of her position, and in ways it had been liberating, but it had created a chasm in her marriage. Once, she had understood Lucius well, she is sure of it.</p><p>“Draco is not a child anymore and he knows now our marriage is unconventional. If there is gossip, my son will know the truth, he will be able to understand. That is all I care about.”</p><p>When Minerva cups her cheek, she is tempted to start crying again.</p><p>“I hope that you know that despite everything, I did my best to protect Draco. I never stopped looking at him and seeing your baby and despite our disagreements about my priorities,” Minerva pauses and Narcissa shuts her eyes, shuddering as every stupid argument they had over her treatment of Draco at school sifted through her mind. “Despite our many disagreements, I always did strive to care for him. If I disciplined him a bit harsher than I did other children it was because I felt more invested and I wanted him to be the boy I … I wanted him to grow to be a young man I would have been proud to call my own. Every time I lost sight of him that night, my heart sank. I did everything in my power to keep him safe.”</p><p>“I know. I sent him there because I trusted you and in the darker moments, it helped, knowing that he had you looking after him, even if he didn’t know. Even if you had many other things you were burdened with. I knew and it helped me in a way I cannot even describe.”</p><p>“I missed you. Even when we quarreled, you were my sanctuary during the first war and going through it all over again and without having something happy to look forward to … I was so alone.”</p><p>“Minerva, I am so sorry.”</p><p>“Don’t be. You did what you needed to do for your family and I do not want you to feel sorry for it. All I wished for during the war was that Voldemort would be defeated and the people I cared for would live. I am just glad that you are here, in my arms. Though it makes me furious that he tortured you.”</p><p>“Oh, Minerva. It is a waste of your energy and your kindness to be angry about it. As you said, we survived and that was an accomplishment in itself. It seemed impossible many, many times that we would survive it, so I am grateful.”</p><p>The ire in Minerva’s eyes doesn’t dissolve, but it does blend with sadness and relief and affection.</p><p>It’s warmer around them now, the kind of warmth a charm casts. Sufficient, but porous. There’s still a biting chill. But Narcissa, cautious, after looking to Minerva for permission twice just to be sure, undoes the top buttons of her robe. She places a kiss on the hollow of Minerva’s throat, and another on her right collarbone. Minerva shivers, captures her lips with her own, and they kiss into oblivion. They kiss until the charm dissipates, a boat sprays water over them and they end up wet and freezing, but shuddering for an entirely different reason.</p><p>“Are you going to come home while you are here?” Narcissa asks.</p><p>“I will. I will always come home. If you wish.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>To HogwartstoAlexandria, I hope this fulfilled some of your wishes. I had a really great time trying to write these two in throes of courtly love (but sexy).</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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